Masquerade
by Drakochannojutsu
Summary: The mask lets them pretend, lets them forget their strife. Behind the masks, Vash and Roderich are just two in a crowd. Aus/Switz


The lilting notes of the orchestra floated over the heads of the guests, each face obscured by an elaborate mask, only outshone by the elaborate clothing. Vienna was a beautiful place in winter, more so when, like tonight, a light dusting of snow was falling, casting a clean, white sparkle over the rooftops. Though it was no particularly special night—Roderich had scoffed, laughing at the demand from Vash of a reason for the celebration. He regretted laughing, now. Those green eyes had gone cold, mouth thinning into a line. He hadn't apologized at the time, and he regretted it now… He regretted so many things, when it came to the other nation.

Violet eyes peered through the mask, sparkling in the light of the chandeliers, the jewels glinting in the corner of his vision. No names were being announced as guests arrived. For all they knew, common people in finery could be walking in. That was the beauty of the masquerade. Roderich stepped down from the orchestra's podium, having set aside his violin. It wasn't that he needed to affirm his suspicions, of course… But that blonde behind the goat mask, escorting a younger girl in a simple sort of finery in a similar mask had to be…

His own mask resembled no animal, but scraps of sheet music in tiny, fine writing were interspersed with solid patches of color, touched here and there with jewels, the edge with a few large feathers. It was gaudy, and his clothing louder than he usually would choose, but that was, once again, the point of a masquerade… His fingers reached out, but then the blonde was turning, and green eyes met violet, a moment of silence falling that felt as if it spread to fill the entire room. Silence the length of a heartbeat. Silence that spanned centuries.

Neither spoke, and Roderich took the lead in the next dance, but only because he was taller. The night passed, minutes ticking down until the guests could pull their masks off at midnight, revealing who they'd been with. This way, they could pretend, for a few hours… For a few hours they could play ignorant, and have their brief brushes of hands, even if they were through gloves, the press of a shoulder into another, a reassuring touch. Things they would never dare do if it weren't for the protection of that mask… They could pretend that they didn't know one another.

Not a word was spoken, as the minutes ticked down, the rest of the crowd calling out the minutes as they counted.

"Zehn!" Clasped fingers almost broke as they slipped through a curtained doorway, into a hallway where the sound of the party was muted, the moonlight spilling through a nearby window.

"Neun!" Fingers sliding along an exposed neck, a gasp sounding from behind a mask. Intimacy was something they'd never been good at, but stubbornly they continued anyway.

"Acht!" Stumbling steps further down the hall, fingers clasping awkwardly.

"Sieben!" Breaking apart hastily as a servant hurried past, not paying more than a glance at the two figures. Still within earshot. A tense stillness filling the air. "Sechs!"

Not quite.

"Fünf!" A ghost of a smile visible below the mask with notes spattered across it, boots pounding muted by the fine carpets as they hurried. The counting was quieter now, but still audible.

"Vier!" A glove pulled off, almost lost in the impatience with which it was withdrawn, fingers finding a few strands of hair the color of wheat in autumn.

"Drei!" Breath ceased as they stepped into a small alcove, a secret place that caught no attention from any servants or residents. Only then did fingers work at buckles and buttons, the fine fabric of their coats cast aside carelessly.

"Zwei!" Eyes locked, gazes fixed on one another as waistcoats came open. A bare hand pressed briefly against the wall, cool to the touch compared to the flush of perhaps one too many glasses of wine.

"Eins!" The crowd's voices were filled with apprehension and excitement. The alcove was filled with the muffled breaths as breeches were pulled open impatiently, fingers finally finding flesh.

The tolling of the huge clock in the ballroom was drowned out by the cheers, as masks were torn off. The quiet gasp was muffled by the mask, as fingers no longer contained by gloves reached downward. For now, the masks could stay on. The illusion of anonymity giving them no reason to be ashamed of what was happening here.

Long, slender fingers clutched at the pale hair, his other hand supporting his weight where he leaned against the wall, as sure strokes coaxed him towards completion, quiet sounds slipping from his lips behind that mask. He pulled his hand from the strands of hair, fine and soft as he'd remembered, to ghost downward, and finally find their way into the other's pants as well. His motions were not so sure, fingers shaking along with his heated breath, but frantic passion was enough, and the groan he coaxed from the blonde's throat was sweeter than any music he'd heard that night.

Their gazes had broken, lost in passion, and he wanted nothing more than to rip the masks from their faces, feel Vash's lips on his own. But this was the only way they could live with this, too much shame to carry on with otherwise… No, this was fine. This was good.

Every muscle in his body sang with tension for a moment, a noise he was far too grateful to have the mask to muffle escaping him, and not too much longer before his partner joined him. He slumped towards the wall, against the other's warmth and their chests heaving against one another, and was that his heart pounding so? He couldn't tell anymore.

Tissues somehow procured were produced from a pocket, and they quietly rearranged their clothing, tying and buttoning back into place, exchanging one last glance through the eyeholes of their masks.

"Va—"

"Stop." The single word was enough, and he did, biting back the words. But he could not stop himself from his next motion, fingers moving to tilt the other's chin up.

"Please," he said simply, then leaned in, their half masks clattering slightly with the solid yet fragile sound of paper mache. The kiss was returned, though hesitant at first, a moment later fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there. But before it could escalate, before he could reach up to pull the other's mask away, he was gone, the curtain swishing behind him as violet eyes followed in the dark, and he was gone again.

He pulled his own mask off as he returned to the party, where all others had removed theirs, and though he searched the crowd, he knew he wouldn't see Vash's face among the guests. They'd had their moment, and it had passed. So it was, between them…

So it might always be.


End file.
